


rotting woods where hearts abide

by VerdantMoth



Series: The Dead Woods [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, Getting Together, M/M, Moving On, Platonic Relationships, Post-Endgame, Rejection, Unrequited Crush, canon adjacent, idk the author can't tag, past peter parker/MJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: He's alone in a foreign city in another country, rejected in an event that probably counts more in the “going to shit” category than seeing the man he’s on the phone with in the doorway of a shop with an unpronounceable name. And he does, see him. Harley’s in his own kitchen, his nephew hanging off his hip as he balances his phone against his shoulder and tries to flip a burnt pancake. The image blurs, warps, spins a little, bookshelves and red table clothes and murky forest all bleeding in and out of each other. For a moment, the image of Harley in a grease stained flannel, hazel eyes glistening, is clear and sharp, and then it’s nothing but miles and miles of wood-rot and mushrooms.





	rotting woods where hearts abide

Peter stumbles onto the Dead Woods quite the same way he does most things in life; utterly on accident and when his life has gone entirely to shit. 

Although, rarely do these things happen in a tiny little bookstore in Berlin. But, there being a first time for everything and all, Peter just sighs and thinks,  _ this is my life. _

He’s on the phone with Harley when everything shifts. He’d say goes to shit, but MJ rejecting his proposal and leaving him alone in a foreign city in another country probably counts more in the “going to shit” category than seeing the man he’s on the phone with in the doorway of a shop with an unpronounceable name. And he does, see him. Harley’s in his own kitchen, his nephew hanging off his hip as he balances his phone against his shoulder and tries to flip a burnt pancake. 

Peter can’t help but sigh, because early morning light is filtering through the window, crowning Harley’s hair in a strange, off-gold halo. Maybe a tarnished halo, one dipped in mud. But he looks excited, cheeks rosy and eyes bright as the kid drools against his shirt and he plates hard breakfast cakes. Happy, even as he commiserates with Peter. 

“Did you really want her to say yes, Pete?”

Peter watches the question form on frankly thin but perfect lips, even as he hears it through the tinny speaker of his phone. 

“I mean, 10 years, Keener. Isn’t that kind of a long time to date a guy you’ve no intention to marry?” Peter asks and he watches Harley set the plates down, fit his nephew in a high chair, and then look at the empty chair Peter sits in when he visits with a heavy seriousness Peter can feel, despite miles and time zones. “I think she was just waiting for the right moment.” 

Peter scoffs, “For what, breaking my heart?” 

The image blurs, warps, spins a little, bookshelves and red table clothes and murky forest all bleeding in and out of each other. “You never loved her, Peter. Not that way. And Tony Stark is dead. Has been for a while. Yet you refuse to truly move on, to see what you already have.” 

For a moment, the image of Harley in a grease stained flannel, hazel eyes glistening, is clear and sharp, and then it’s nothing but miles and miles of wood-rot and mushrooms. 

Peter’s phone screams at him, no service available, and he slumps to the damp forest floor, studying the stupid diamond ring in his palm. He paid too much for the oversized stone and honestly, MJ should’ve said no. He’s ashamed of the stupid thing, so he chucks it as hard as he can, uncaring of the truly ridiculous amount of money he just lost in a magic forest that apparently exist nowhere and appears spontaneously. 

-

Peter isn’t sure how long he lies there among the mushrooms and lichen. It’s nice; muted, soft, a little damp. But there are absolutely zero expectations. No need to be a hero, or a boyfriend, or a share-holder/biomechanic engineer. No one waiting for him to smile or cry or mention Tony at the absolutely wrong time. He doesn’t even have to play brother to Morgan or… whatever it is he and Harley are to each other, as the adopted and abandoned proteges of the literal savior of the world. 

He’s a little concerned for May, who has probably already heard from MJ or Ned or Harley, and is sitting by the phone just waiting for Peter’s call. 

He should call her. Really, he’s going to.

But the temperature here is just right, settling against his skin like a weighted blanket and the birds hum lazily and the sun filters absently through a thick green crown and honestly? He needs this break from reality.

This mental nap. 

Because he’s like, 63% sure he’s snapped and gone crazy. He’s probably sitting in the bookstore staring at nothing and worrying the workers and other patrons. 

But a nap sounds nice, and the Spanish Moss that mysteriously falls on him is the perfect covering and he  _ sleeps _ .

-

Peter wakes with a start, unsure at first as to why. He’d not been dreaming, which was a refreshing change from the nightmares that normally plagued him. 

“Oh, Petey,” a voice whispers. 

Peter clenches his eyes shut, afraid of the memories. “I’m losing it,” he says out loud.

Laughter, and then, “Don’t you remember the bed-time stories? About the woods where the dead linger?”

He wants to put his hands over his ears like he’s eight again. “Terrible bedtime stories really, the nightmares those induced!”

A familiar hand, callous but airy brushes his cheek for just a moment. “C’mon Peter, look at me?” 

Peter opens his eyes, but his vision is blurred by tears. “‘M sorry,” he mutters, wiping his sleeve across his face.

“You got nothing to be sorry for,” but they both know that’s only a little true. Peter stares at Uncle Ben, and it’s weird, because he almost looks  _ young _ when Peter’s mind remembers thinking he was  _ so old _ .

“So I guess this means I can skip Sunday Morning Service now, huh?” Peter asks wryly. 

Ben laughs, shakes his head. “No, no I’m pretty sure Heaven exist. I’m just waiting for my gal before I enter those gates.” 

Peter can feel his chest clench, and Ben must see something in his face because his expression softens. “How is she? How is May?”

“She’d do a lot better with you around, but she manages,” Peter says. He frowns, then adds, “And by manages I do mean manages. She’d run my whole life if I let her,” he smiles softly, digging in the dirt. “Sometimes I think it’d be easier if I did,” he whispers. 

Ben wraps an arm around him, or at least, Peter thinks he does. “Oh kid, you’re so young still. You got so much to do, so much left to achieve. Don’t give up now.” 

Peter eyes him, sharp and assessing. “Is that why I get to say goodbye to you, even though I’m not who you’re waiting on? So you can tell me it gets better?”

Ben shakes his head. “I’m just the warm up kid, hear to tell you, listen to your heart. Follow it, but don’t mistake what you wanted with what you desire now.” 

Peter blinks, confused because, what even? And Ben is gone. 

He sighs, flops back into the cool earth and thinks  _ at least I can sleep. _ He’s not even aware that time has lost its meaning here. 

Doesn’t even care a bit.

-

Peter wakes again with a dry mouth and his ears ringing with the sound of a wrench and a welder. He blinks, and the trees tremble and for a moment Harley is in Tony’s lab, working on some chrome project and humming to himself, shirtless and pants low on his hips. 

He blinks again and it’s Tony, banging around at some suit, cursing, and Peter vomits up food he doesn’t remember eating. 

“You’re alright kid, just adjusting to the Dead Woods. Give it some time. Find the stream, drink a little, clean up.” 

When he wipes his mouth, there’s nothing but trees and earth and Peter frowns. He’s 31% sure he hasn’t tried anything fun in Berlin, but that doesn’t really mean it’s not possible. Still, he stands, all of his joints popping like a broken symphony and wanders aimlessly in search of the magic stream. He stumbles into it, literally. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, because the water is damn cold despite the amicable climate of the rest of this damn place. 

Still, it’s pleasant against his tongue and he drinks until his stomach aches. 

When he turns around, Tony is there, silver bearded but rosy looking, and leaning against a tree. “Hey kid, good to see you. Wish you'd brought the rest of them along but I know the rules.” Tony walks towards him, “Still, when have rules every meant anything to us avengers. Hey, hows Pepper? And Morgan? Did Harley ever figure out that thing? Did Happy ask your Aunt out. I swear, at one point I thought I was going to have to ask her just to kick him into gear. Not that dating her would’ve been a hardship.”

Tony talks a mile a minute and Peter’s head spins and he launches himself at the older man. The hug is all wrong. Tony isn’t nearly solid enough, but Peter cries against his chest and feels the phantom fingers stroke his hair. “You should be there, Tony, with all of them.”

“But I’m not, kid, and it’s time you accept that.” 

It’s a dumb as fuck answer, and Peter wants to say so, but Tony vanishes.

-

Tony tinkers in the Dead Woods, despite not really having anything to tinker on. Still, he manages to build things out of rock and wood and dirt and bone. “It’s how they did it before, you know. How we got our start.” 

Mostly, Peter watches, occasionally jerking his head at an off-center laughter that sounds a lot like Harley’s but couldn’t possibly be.

“It’s interesting, these woods. No two people experience them the same. Dead or Alive.” 

Peter flinches away from the causal statement. 

“Funny, how you were hellbent on finding me, and yet it’s someone else’s  _ metaphorical _ ghost you’re chasing.” 

“I’m sorry you died, saving me,” Peter answers instead.

Tony puts the bone chisel down and really looks at him. “I died saving a lot of people, Peter. It was kind of how it was always going to be.”

“You died to bring me back,” Peter says, and he won’t let Tony look away.

Tony’s gaze goes gentle, fond, and he says, “Yeah. Yeah I did, kid.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeats.

“I know,” Tony answers.

-

“I loved you,” Peter tells him. He’s digging in the dirt again, hiding his shame.

“I loved you too,” Tony says. 

Peter flushes, but presses on. “I was  _ in love _ with you. Had a crush. Huge messy thing. And you didn’t really help it dying for me.”

Tony is quiet for a long time, which is odd because Peter has gotten used to his chatter. “In another world, Peter, I loved you back the same way. But in this one? There were too many obstacles. And I love Pepper.”

Peter shrugs, “Yeah, I know. But it’s a bit easier to get over someone when they’re there, happy and healthy and in love in front of you.” Peter blinks, thinking of MJ. “Well, at least when they’re in front of you and in love with someone else.” 

Tony tilts his head and holds up a finger, and then Harley’s voice bounces among the trees, calling for Peter. “You sure that theory is 100% foolproof?” He’s gone before Peter can answer.

-

Harley trips over Peter, muddy and greasey and a little sunburnt but fucking beautiful and Peter hugs him tight. “How the hell’d you find me?” 

Harley looks at him a little dazed. “I dunno. One minute I’m feeding Sebastian and Morgan, and the next my bathroom is a doorway to a rotting Narnia.” 

He studies Peter, the dirt on his clothes, the branches in his hair, “How long have you been here Parker?” 

Peter shrugs sheepishly. “Dunno, every since MJ dumped me?”

Harley whistles. 

They sit quietly for a while, leaning against each other, until Harley asks, “So not that it’s not nice here, but how the fuck do we go home? I got the kids for a few more hours and two moms who will murder me if they find out I left them unsupervised.”

Peter chuckles a little. “You’re in the right place to be dead.” He slumps his shoulders a little. “Not sure how you ended up here, Harls, unless you also got unresolved things.”

Harley eyes him, spits a curse, then shoves a finger in Peter’s chest. “Christ, Parker. Am I your unresolved thing?” 

Peter blinks. “Don’t be stupid. Tony is.”

Harley’s whole body goes hurt, and he turns away from Peter. “Figures. You’ve been stuck on him for always, and I guess it’s time we all got used to it.” 

Harley stands and brushes dirt from his jeans and says, “Don’t follow me. I want to be alone for a bit.”

-

Tony’s back, eyes all judgy and brown. “Seriously kid? He’s gone on you and you’re pining over a dead guy? An old one, at that.” 

Peter frowns. “Don’t be dumb, Tony. Harley just tolerates me ‘cause you basically adopted us both and made us important in your company.”

Tony raises his brows. “So, he answers all your calls no matter what time or what he’s doing, buys you crappy moose track ice cream when your down, hums lullabies when you have nightmares, and traipses through the nightmare woods just because I made y’all friends by proxy.” Tony’s glare is flat. “Yeah, makes perfect sense Peter. Here I thought you were almost a genius.” 

And yeah, put that way it does sound… less than feasible, but “No one as good as Harley waits 10 years on a loser like me, Tony.”

“No one like Pepper waits any amount of time on an asshole wreck like me,” Tony counters.

And oh, shit. Peter stands up. “I gotta fix it.”

“Yup,” Tony nods.    


“Any clue how?” Peter hedges.

“Say goodbye to me, for one. Really and truly put me to rest, Peter. Because I loved you, I do love you, but even if I had survived that gauntlet, you would’ve had to move on eventually anyway.” Tony pauses, eyeing the growing dusk with a sort of knowing Peter doesn't like. "I mean, I'll be here a while, waiting on the others, so it's not like you won't see me again, kid. We're all gonna enter the otherside together some day. So be patient and take care of my ladies and your lady and our boys, okay?"

Peter sniffs, and Tony’s calloused thumb, warm this time, wipes a tear from his cheek. “Seriously, kid, stop shutting everyone out and pushing them all away. My wife and daughter deserve better. May and Happy deserve better. Harley deserves a helluva lot more than being your emotional support booty-call.”

Peter wraps him in a hug, holds him tight until there is nothing in his arms, and the pressure of lips in his hair has long since faded. “Goodbye, Mr. Stark,” he whispers. 

-

It isn’t hard to find Harley cussing and kicking around in the woods. “Did you say goodbye to Tony?” Peter starts.

Harley gives him a flat look. “Yeah, ten years ago at a memorial no one wanted to be at.”

Peter flinches back, “No, but I mean, didn’t you get to see him here?” 

Harley shakes his head. “Don’t think it works like that Peter. I’d already laid him to rest. Said all I needed to at dumb stone memorials and stupid reunions.” 

He steps towards Peter, but keeps careful space between them. “I had my closure.” 

Peter nods, and takes a step towards Harley. “Closure is nice. Good. Interesting?” 

“Yeah?” Harlye asks warily. 

“It's funny," Peter begins, but then he pauses, feeling foolish. “I was just a kid then, you know? And I’d never felt that way before for anyone. And he was so suave and cool, and then he was dead and he’d left us so much and somewhere along the way I just…”

“You confused what you had felt with what you currently felt?” Harley guesses. 

“Something like that,” Peter murmurs. He reaches for Harley’s hand suddenly, “Hey, I’m sorry you got pulled into this place with me.” 

Harley stares at their joined hands. “I’d go anywhere for you, Parker. You know that.” 

Peter just hums, leans into Harley. 

“You stink, badly.” 

Peter smiles against his shoulder and points. He can see the stupid SI shower curtain from Harley’s bathroom. “Clean me?” 

And Harley sighs, but he kisses his temple. “C’mon you great asshole.”

Peter just grins. 

“You know we are going to have to find a way to get your shit from Berlin, right?” Harley asks as he turns the water on.

“Forget it,” Peter tells him. “It can all be replaced.” 

Harley is studying the water as it gets sudsy, “And we’re gonna have to talk about this. About us. I don’t know what kinda nirvana moment you had in those woods, but I’ve watched you pine for a ghost for a decade. I don’t want to get hurt.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I know that Harley. But right now? Can you just…” He doesn’t quite know how to phrase his question so he cups Harley’s cheeks and waits for the look of consent and kisses him. “We both stink, and the kids are asleep and before the heavy stuff can we just have an ‘us’ moment? No ghost, or companies or families between us?” 

Harley nods and strips his shirt as Peter peels off his own clothes and they climb into the shower. “Just us,” Harley whispers. “It kinda sounds nice.” 


End file.
